Darkest before dawn
by Logospilgrim
Summary: Soon after saving Dumbledore from the cursed Marvolo ring, Professor Snape is struck by an incurable degenerative illness as a result of the potion he must brew to keep the Headmaster alive. Will they be able to help Harry destroy Voldemort? AU nonsense.
1. Released

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Author's note: This story is AU, as are all my stories. A pure exercise in maudlin, somewhat adequately written sentimental tripe. So, enjoy, if you will... I believe that gentleness is one of the results of healing, and therefore I do not find it difficult to imagine a gentle Professor Snape. I do not personally consider such a quality to be out of character for him (though some may disagree if they wish); I view it as the natural outcome of growth, pruning and fruitfulness.

Darkest before dawn

by

Logospilgrim

Snape set a goblet before Dumbledore, who slowly drank the golden liquid it contained and shuddered.

"Thank you, Severus."

The Potions Master gave a curt nod. "I shall return tomorrow with the next dose. I need to brew more potion this evening." He pressed his mouth against his sleeve and coughed a few times.

"You look pale," Dumbledore said, frowning slightly. "Have your dealings with Voldemort been more demanding than usual?"

"Not any more than usual, no. If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I-"

Dumbledore lifted his good hand. "Do stay a moment. Sit down."

Snape hesitated, evidently torn between a prompt, unceremonious exit and obedience. His mouth tightened for a second and he sighed harshly.

"What do you wish to discuss, Headmaster? Your impending execution at my hands? Or perhaps you'd like us to go over the details of Potter's imminent death again, without really telling me anything?" His diatribe was interrupted by another bout of coughing.

"Severus... Please."

Bitterness flashed across the thin man's features and he let himself fall into one of the armchairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. "It's useless to argue with you," he said almost inaudibly.

"I think, lad, that you have been hiding something from me," Dumbledore said.

The Potions Master snorted. "As if such a thing were even feasible."

"How long have you been feeling unwell?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Snape said. His eyes locked with Dumbledore's. "I am..." He faltered and clenched his jaw. "I am as fine as a murderer and a traitor could be."

"You are neither."

"Damn you!" Snape said, hitting the desk with his fist and rising from his seat. "Spouting orders and niceties about what's easy and hard -you've certainly shied away from pain, haven't you, and crushed me with the burden no one else can carry!"

"I wouldn't have asked you what I did unless I had known that your soul would be preserved from harm. You have spoken the truth... No one but you possesses the strength to grant my terrible request. Only you love me enough to give me peace. "

Snape blinked and was still. Then his face contorted; he turned away and strode towards the window, stumbling once. "Damn you," he said in a breath, his fingers raking the glass. "I can't do it. I can't..." His body shook as he was racked with yet more coughing.

Dumbledore walked up to Snape and put his hand upon the younger man's shoulder. Snape lowered his head. "I'm not as strong as you believe I am," Snape said. "Not anymore. Not, it seems... for much longer."

"You are ill," Dumbledore finally said.

"Yes."

"When did you contract this illness?"

"Soon after I began brewing the potion that counteracts the curse."

"You have known for a while, then."

Snape nodded. He glanced at Dumbledore, his expression blank. A filament of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. "I am just as capable of deceit as you are, Headmaster, when I think I'm doing what's right."

"Severus," Dumbledore said with a sad smile. "You're far more transparent than you realize."

Snape lowered his head again.

"Come, sit down," Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the comfortable chairs next to the fireplace.

Snape followed him silently. He coughed, leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I take it the disease has attacked your lungs?" Dumbledore asked without preamble.

"That's correct," Snape answered. "All the symptoms point to a degenerative condition. I have unearthed no diagnosis due to the unique nature of the potion. Every day I grow weaker. However, I'm confident that I shall be able to fulfill..." He paused. "_Most_ of your commands before the end."

"I trust you have tried to find a cure."

"Duty required I do so," Snape said, smirking. "I have been unsuccessful."

"In that case, you must stop brewing the potion."

"Out of the question. You will die otherwise, and Potter needs you if he is to accomplish his task, whatever it is. I must brew the potion to give you as much time as possible."

Dumbledore chuckled. "My dear Severus, it appears you are determined to die prior to my own demise, and I am equally determined to imitate you. But Harry needs us both for the time being."

"Well, then... We must endeavor to hang on for as long as we can. Nevertheless, I shall see to it that you outlive me, Headmaster."

"For now, let's have some tea, lad. Since neither of us are long for this world, I think we should rest as often as circumstances allow." He warmed the teapot with a tap of his wand and poured tea in the cups. "Especially you."

"I won't do it. I don't care what I promised. Don't you know that you're the closest thing I have to a father?" Snape said, his voice roughened by weariness and emotion. "Within weeks, or less, I won't be able to at any rate. Soon I'll be too sick to brew anything, let alone release you. Hurry and help Potter finish what it is you want him to do. Soon it'll be too late."

"You'll release me eventually, Severus." Dumbledore handed him a teacup. "Who else but you can brew the potion that keeps me alive? You will deliver me, but in a manner that will be less distressing for you." He patted Snape's arm. "I am glad of it. I know I asked a great deal."

"We must protect Draco somehow," Snape said, rubbing his forehead. "I doubt he can do what the Dark Lord demanded of him, but in any event we cannot permit it. We must save him."

"Your illness will simplify matters."

"What do you mean?" Snape said, bemused.

"I believe, Severus, that we should not conceal the truth. Once you are confined to bed, I'll reveal your condition to everyone. I daresay by then rumors will already have begun to circulate. It will be easier for you to discover what Draco is up to if he no longer views you as a threat."

"Yes... Of course." Snape suddenly started coughing again, and this time he retrieved a handkerchief from his robes. A few moments later, he sank back against the chair, and the white linen clutched in his hand was spotted with blood.

Dumbledore got up and brought Snape's teacup to the pale man's lips. "Drink a little," he said, encouraging Snape to swallow.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," Snape whispered.

"Oh, lad... This is my fault."

Snape shook his head. "Trust me, Headmaster... You have asked much, it's true. But you have given me much in return. You are releasing me from this life. Our debts are repaid."


	2. Improvisation

"Oh, lad... This is my fault."

Snape shook his head. "Trust me, Headmaster... You have asked much, it's true. But you have given me much in return. You are releasing me from this life. Our debts are repaid."

"You'll have to take care of yourself," Dumbledore said, placing Snape's cup on the small table between the chairs. "We're both tired, but we must remain strong. I know I can count on you."

"Yes, Headmaster. Indeed you can."

Dumbledore sat down with a slight grunt, and for a while there was no sound save the crackling of the logs burning in the fireplace. Then Dumbledore said, "She would be proud of you, Severus."

Snape drew his robes closer to himself and shivered. He stared ahead, his eyes watering.

"Are you cold?" the elderly wizard asked.

"Yes and no," Snape answered at last. "For some time now I have been afflicted by a constant and worsening fever. I have taken various potions, but their effectiveness has been limited." He got to his feet. "I had best return to the dungeons, Headmaster. If the disease continues to progress at this pace... I must make use of the time left to me. After my classes, I have work in my laboratory."

"I understand, but I must insist that you rest frequently. It is a small promise to make."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape said, inclining his head. He swept out of Dumbledore's office, his dark robes trailing behind him like a shadow.

Dumbledore sat for a while and stroked his beard. Then he went to his desk, grabbed a quill, and began to write upon a piece of parchment.

The next morning, Dumbledore eyed Snape critically as the latter approached him with a goblet of potion.

"I brewed a larger batch last night and prepared several doses in advance. The potion will only retain its potency for a few weeks, but should my health decline faster than expected... I have labeled the jars and shall continue to ensure that you will be able to instruct Potter even when I become bedridden," Snape said.

"Sit, lad. You slept well?"

"Fairly well." Snape brought his handkerchief to his mouth, coughed and then held his forehead, his elbow propped against the armrest.

Dumbledore drained the cup and said, "That is a most convincing display of alertness, Severus."

"I didn't go to bed very late, Headmaster. I just... woke a lot, that's all. There doesn't seem to be much I can do about it anymore," Snape said, half-slumped in his chair. "I am trying to do everything I can while I still care."

"In that case, there is something I must tell you."

Snape arched his eyebrow.

"I have changed some of my plans," Dumbledore said.

Someone knocked at the door; Snape looked over his shoulder in surprise.

"Ah, Minerva is here," Dumbledore said. He waved his hand and the door opened, revealing the prim, grey-haired witch.

Snape straightened and stowed his handkerchief in his robes.

"You wanted to see me, Albus?" McGonagall said.

"Please join us, Minerva. Severus and I were about to discuss matters of vital importance."

She sat in the plush armchair next to Snape's.

"Minerva," Snape said.

Her gaze lingered upon his wan features and she frowned. "For pity's sake, have you been starving yourself again?"

"I fear it is more serious than that," Dumbledore told her.

"Headmaster?" Snape said, clearly bewildered.

"The situation has become more complicated, Severus, and I have decided to tell Minerva everything."

"Headmaster," Snape said with a warning tone in his voice.

"Almost everything," Dumbledore gently said. "Don't fret."

"Will you two please explain what on earth this is about?" Minerva said.

Dumbledore leaned back, considering how he would begin. He sighed. "I have revelations for the both of you."

Snape and McGonagall exchanged a startled and puzzled glance.

"I have long preferred not to keep all my eggs in one basket," Dumbledore said, "but time is now of the essence, and I've come to the inescapable conclusion that I must rely upon my closest friends if we are to win the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"Albus, you know full well that anything you tell me in confidence won't leave this room," Minerva said.

Dumbledore retrieved a rolled parchment from his desk. "I am overjoyed to hear you say that. I want you to help Severus care for Hogwarts. I am resigning as Headmaster."

Snape and McGonagall gaped at him, too shocked to speak.

"It will be for the greater good," Dumbledore said.

"You can't be serious!" McGonagall said.

"What nonsense is this?" Snape whispered, his face white. "Have you gone mad? I'm dying, Dumbledore!"

McGonagall gasped.

"Severus has been brewing a potion for me, and I regret to say that it has caused him to become gravely ill. Although I must take it every day, it is merely postponing the inevitable. My days are also numbered," Dumbledore said. "I have incurred a deadly curse."

"Albus... Severus," Minerva said. She clutched the base of her throat, as if unable to breathe. "How could you hide this from me?"

"My death is irrelevant," Dumbledore said lightly. "It is imperative that I teach Harry what he must do in order to defeat Voldemort, and I need more time. Severus has already informed me that Hogwarts will soon be in Voldemort's grasp. We might as well be one step ahead of him and make Severus the new Headmaster. I daresay the Ministry of Magic will approve immediately."

"But... How can I oversee Hogwarts, Headmaster?" Snape said. "I shall be too ill... I shall be useless. Even now I am considerably weakened." Right on cue, he fumbled for his handkerchief and coughed repeatedly.

"You are not completely incapacitated yet, and there's no reason for concern. Minerva will be the one in charge. She'll help you keep up appearances, as it were, until you are confined to bed."

"And what of the Dark Lord? I won't be able to protect either Hogwarts or Minerva when he sees that I am no longer fit to be Headmaster."

"I hope that by then Harry will have accomplished the first half of his mission... We'll have to improvise as events unfold, and have faith."

"This is madness," Snape said, shaking his head tiredly.

"Do you accept, Severus?"

"What choice do I have." Snape turned to McGonagall. "Minerva... Will you assist me? It seems the Headmaster has roped us into his latest impossible scheme."

"I agree with Severus," Minerva told Dumbledore. "This _is_ utter madness. But I suppose we have few options." She sniffed and reaching over to Snape, squeezed his hand. "Don't worry. You won't be alone."


	3. Foreknowledge

"I agree with Severus," Minerva told Dumbledore. "This _is_ utter madness. But I suppose we have few options." She sniffed and reaching over to Snape, squeezed his hand. "Don't worry. You won't be alone."

"Well, it's all settled, then," Dumbledore said. "Thank you Minerva, Severus. I'll make the announcement during dinner tonight."

"Who will teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Snape asked.

"I am," Dumbledore said. "I have no intention of leaving Hogwarts, at least not until Voldemort temporarily takes over."

Snape nodded and sighed. "I am tired, Headmaster. I should rest before... before you inform everyone of your decisions. May I cancel my afternoon class?"

McGonagall's eyebrows rose.

"Of course, dear lad. Off you go," Dumbledore said.

Snape got to his feet, inclined his head towards McGonagall, and left.

"Albus," she said, "is there nothing that can be done for him? Or you?"

"Alas, no. Well, in my case, definitely not. But Severus may yet recover, although only time will tell."

"I'll say again that this idea of yours is absolute insanity. How much longer do you think Severus will be able to comply with your wishes?"

"Hopefully, his strength won't desert him completely for another two or three weeks."

The witch's lips thinned. "If I may venture an opinion, Albus, I believe your demands will precipitate his deterioration." She huffed. "Why didn't you make me Headmistress? You're asking too much of Severus-"

"I know, Minerva. I know. But I have my reasons." Dumbledore paused, his blue eyes locking with hers. "I need you to trust him. You are aware of his past... I can't disclose the exact reason behind his change of heart. However, I need to know that you will be there for him. Hogwarts itself must uphold him, otherwise all will be lost. Forgive me for being so cryptic..."

"Heavens. You, cryptic. Perish the thought," McGonagall said wryly. "I have no doubt that Severus is on our side. Whatever unfortunate choice he may have made when he was young, and however difficult his temperament may still be at times, his dedication to you and Hogwarts cannot be called into question." Her face softened. "Poor young man."

"You'll soon see that I am doing what will not only be in his best interest, but everyone's, particularly the students of Hogwarts. They too will need to trust him. It will be essential that they do so... Especially Harry and Draco Malfoy."

"Surely Mr. Malfoy trusts His Head of House?"

"Not entirely, I fear. Which is extremely problematic."

McGonagall considered Dumbledore's troubling words for a moment, then she said, "And you want Harry Potter to trust Severus? As usual, it seems you're asking for the impossible."

"I have a good feeling that it will happen now," Dumbledore said.

"I sincerely hope you're right. Well, I have a class to teach. I'll see you at dinner, Albus."

"Likewise, Minerva."

None of the students paid much attention to the fact that Snape was late for dinner. It was often the case, and due to the majority's dislike of the fearsome man, his absence was vastly preferable to his presence.

When he finally appeared, some time after the meal had begun, conversions ground to a halt from one end of the Great Hall to the other.

His expression was... _almost_ as forbidding as ever. His features betrayed a strange weariness that confounded the children. The breach in his familiar dark armour somehow deepened the sense of unease that had permeated Hogwarts since Voldemort's return: more and more, the unknown was creeping like fog into everyone's lives and shrouding the future.

They all watched as he billowed towards the Head Table and sat down next to the Headmaster, who put his hand upon Snape's shoulder and whispered something to him. Snape nodded once. Before another sound could be heard, Dumbledore stood and smiled down at them.

"Prior to dessert being served, my dear children, I have a few important things to tell you. First, I have asked Professor Snape to be Headmaster in my place."

The students drew in a collective horrified breath, and the other teachers stared at the Headmaster, shell-shocked. Dumbledore quickly resumed speaking.

"Second, I shall teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts from now on. I have decided that I must take a more active role in your education, particularly as it pertains to your ability to protect yourselves against He Who Must Not Be Named. Professor Snape has graciously accepted to relieve me from the responsibilities that belong to a Headmaster, that I might personally show you how to repel the darkest magic. I trust that you will all behave as respectfully towards Headmaster Snape as you did towards me."

The silence was broken by Snape's coughs; he seized the goblet that was in front of him and took a a couple of clumsy gulps. He then narrowed his eyes at the few who had the audacity to gape at him.

"All right, dessert," Dumbledore said, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. He took his seat once more and turned to Snape, patting the younger man's back.

Animated murmurs reverberated across the entire room.

"Snape, Headmaster!" Ron told Harry and Hermione, momentarily forgetting about the large piece of chocolate cake that had appeared upon his plate. "Maybe Dumbledore's been confunded?"

"I wouldn't put it past Snape," Harry said.

"Do you really think that Dumbledore could be overpowered by Snape, when even You-Know-Who hasn't been able to do it?" Hermione said. "Not only that, but Snape looks like he might be sick. Maybe Dumbledore wants to teach us because Snape can't anymore."

"If he can't teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, I don't see how he can replace Dumbledore," Harry said. "Something's not right."

"It'll be bloody fantastic to have Dumbledore teaching us, though," Ron said.

"That's true," Harry said.

"Dumbledore knows what he's doing," Hermione said. "I keep telling you that we have to trust him!"

"I can trust him, but not Snape," Harry said. "Never." He abruptly got up and left the Great Hall.

Later that evening, Snape finished brewing another batch of the golden potion that ensured Dumbledore's continued existence, albeit temporarily, and the second he had extinguished the fire underneath his cauldron, he retired into the bed chambers. He shrugged off his robes, letting them fall haphazardly onto an upholstered chair, then sat down upon the bed and removed his boots. He slowly unbuttoned his coat, loosened his cravat, and reclined against the pillows, closing his eyes.

How much longer could he hang on? He wasn't sure.


	4. Gamble

Author's note: another interminable delay. Please forgive me. I hope you will enjoy my latest batch of silly scribblings. I wrote this whilst listening to "Portrait" by Philip Glass, which was very inspiring. For a while there, I was not sure whether or not my fan fic writing days were over; sometimes, I am overwhelmed by my projects (I am about to start working on my next Snape book, _The flawed master_, and I am doing so by first rereading all the Potter novels). But... a little Snape hurt/comfort is relaxing, so I shall continue :-)

God bless you for your kindness and understanding. I am just having a pleasant time with this fic.

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

[_]

How much longer could he hang on? He wasn't sure.

Although most of his life had been fraught with difficulty, he could not recall a time when he had felt wearier. Emptier. With each cauldron of potion he brewed, his resolve decreased. It was as if he were being bled, he reflected; like someone had cut his arm, and the red liquid was dripping in the white porcelain bowl underneath.

Soon, soon... Despite the fact that it would not be the quick end he had often dreamed of. Rather, it would be a relatively long, debilitating and humiliating affair. Just what he deserved, in all truth.

He would hang on until the last moment, holding fast to his duty. To his promise.

Unbidden, the image of her face came to him. He fought the wretched tears, but he was at a disadvantage: he was exhausted, ill, and alone. Even the memory of her could not compel him to betray weakness before others...

Well, with the exception of Dumbledore. Damn him.

Snape turned to his side. He wrapped an arm around his chest, which had begun to ache, and cried silently.

Then, suddenly, he gasped and could not breathe for a few moments. The burning sensation in his chest was overcome by the fire that spread across the surface of his left forearm and sank past his muscles and into his bones.

_Oh, no. Not now. Not now..._

A succession of violent coughs shook his body. Eventually, he forced himself to his feet and staggered into his study, where he searched the potions cabinet for any liquid that might bolster his diminishing strength, knocking over a number of vials in the process. With any luck, this would be his last encounter with the Dark Lord, who had no doubt heard about the latest events and was eager to scan his "faithful" servant's thoughts.

Snape shuddered.

_Get a grip, you damned fool. This is not the time to lose control._

His hand halted in mid-motion as he glimpsed a small, dark purple bottle. He hesitated. The potion was incredibly powerful, and he was not in the best of health, to say the least... It would be dangerous.

"It won't be my first gamble," he muttered to himself. He was rapidly running out of time. The mark burned again and he hissed.

He uncorked the bottle and downed its contents in one gulp. There was a sound of breaking glass as the bottle slipped from his fingers and shattered upon the stone floor; he clutched his head and took several deep, agonized breaths. Finally, he swallowed and opened his eyes. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, but his mind was like an impregnable fortress.

He hurried into his bed chambers, put on his boots, buttoned his coat, grabbed his cloak and mask and strode out of the dungeons.

[_]

"Ah... Severus. Prompt as always, my favorite one. Though I had to call you... twice."

Snape dropped to his knees in front of Voldemort and kissed the creature's robes. "Forgive me, Master."

"Remove your mask. Let me see you."

Snape obeyed and looked up at the Dark Lord, whose eyes immediately locked with his.

"I hear that the old fool made you Headmaster."

"That is so, my Lord."

"He is, then, as ill as you said he was."

"It is only a question of time now," Snape said. To his horror, he found his eyes drifting shut. The potion was protecting his mind from assault, but his body was too weakened to withstand its potency. A drop of sweat rolled from his temple to his jaw line and he shivered. He could not tell whether it was due to his own illness or to the potion.

"Severus? Look at me."

Snape tried to pry his eyes open, and his lids parted slightly. He couldn't speak; all his efforts were focused upon remaining conscious.

"You are unwell, my servant?"

Before Snape could nod, he felt Voldemort's icy fingers touching his forehead, which is when he realized that he was burning with fever. At last he whispered, "Yes... my Lord."

Voldemort frowned.

"I must brew a potion... for Dumbledore. It has... made me ill." For once, Snape was thankful to be kneeling.

After a long period of silence, Voldemort said, "That is most inconvenient."

Snape lowered his head. It had become too difficult to keep it tilted upwards. He coughed a few times. "McGonagall has been instructed to assist me," he said, his voice barely audible. "I... I shall continue to... gather all the information that will be... of use to you, my Lord." His heart thumped inside his chest.

"Faithful to the last," Voldemort said, considering Snape's words. He gestured abruptly at one of the Death Eaters. "Lucius."

Malfoy hastened to Voldemort. "Yes, my Lord?"

"You will be in charge of relaying the information Severus obtains. You will visit him regularly, and each time you will come to me afterwards. I doubt he will be able to Apparate in the near future."

"As you wish, my Lord," Lucius said, and bowed.

"Help him return to Hogwarts," Voldemort said. He left the room without another glance at the ailing man.

The rest of the Death Eaters melted in the shadows; Snape and Malfoy were the only ones in the room.

"Let's go, Severus," Malfoy said. "Can you stand?"

Snape pushed himself to his feet. Although the skin at his cheekbones was flushed, the rest of his face was deathly white. He swayed and Malfoy gripped his arm.

"Come on," Lucius said. Together with Snape, he Disapparated.

[_]

Snape took another couple of steps and slumped against the stone wall for the third time.

_Almost there. Get going... The sun is about to rise._

As bad as he felt, it was an improvement compared to the moments he had passed in Voldemort's presence. The potion he had taken was likely the sole reason he was still alive. Although it had worsened his symptoms, it had also effectively strengthened his ability to Occlude his mind.

If he could just get to his quarters and lie down for a while...

Sweat dripping from his chin onto his coat, he at last reached the stone gargoyle and said, "Lily." He lurched up the stairs and entered what had been Dumbledore's quarters, failing to shut the door behind him.

He tugged at his cravat and loosened his collar. He was so hot, his clothes were clinging to his body, the room was spinning.

He fell to the floor on the carpet in front of the empty fireplace, his robes splayed around him.

[_]

"I told you, Albus! He's already too sick to make it from his desk to his chambers, let alone-"

"Minerva, something clearly happened last night..."

Snape groaned at the sound of the voices, so sharp in contrast with the soft pillow beneath his aching head.

"Severus?" Dumbledore sat by Snape's bedside and peered at the younger man. "Minerva and I are here. We found you unconscious in your study this morning and put you to bed."

"I'll be fine," Snape said after a while. "I was... summoned yesterday evening."

McGonagall drew in her breath.

"No, he didn't do anything," Snape said. His eyes were still closed. He coughed and moistened his lips.

McGonagall poured water into a glass. "Here, Severus. Have some water."


	5. Reassessment

Author's note: Do forgive me if this is sillier than usual. My neck is hurting me and I am currently on muscle relaxants. I wanted to update this fic today because numerous other tasks are requiring my attention, and I did not wish to make you wait too long. Thank you for your kindness.

Next time: Harry, Lucius and Draco enter the picture.

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

[_]

McGonagall poured water into a glass. "Here, Severus. Have some water."

Dumbledore supported Snape's shoulders while McGonagall handed the glass to Snape, who drank slowly.

"There we are," McGonagall said. "Is that better? Are you finished?"

Snape nodded, and she put the half-empty glass on the night table; Dumbledore very gently lowered Snape onto the pillow.

"Why didn't you let me know you had been summoned, lad?" Dumbledore said.

Snape shrugged. "I was distracted."

"Tell me what happened. Unless you would prefer to rest."

"The Dark Lord... knows that I shall soon be useless. Lucius has been assigned to my care," Snape said with a tired smirk. "You should expect him any day. He'll be the intermediary between me and the Dark Lord until... I am no longer coherent, I imagine."

McGonagall stared pointedly at Dumbledore.

"Once Hogwarts is within his grasp... it appears that by then, he will have to find a replacement for me," Snape said. "Your time is running out."

"Could you elaborate what you meant when you said that you were distracted, Severus?" Dumbledore said at last.

"I'd prefer... to rest." A sheen of sweat had begun to cover his features.

"All right," Dumbledore said. "I think you have answered my question." He patted Snape's hand. "That's enough for now."

McGonagall, who had seemed ready to berate Dumbledore, was mollified. "Finally. Since you are both being sensible, I'm going to fetch Poppy."

"It won't make any difference," Snape mumbled.

"And then, you should eat a bit, Severus," McGonagall said.

"I'm not hungry."

"It couldn't hurt to try," Dumbledore said. He felt Snape's forehead with his palm. "Was it this bad yesterday?"

"It was worse." He coughed.

"I'll be back with Poppy," McGonagall said, her eyes glistening.

Dumbledore poured water into the hand basin, dipped a cloth in the cool liquid, and began wiping Snape's face. Snape looked up at his former Headmaster, startled.

"Don't give up yet, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You still have much to live for."

"Spare me your sentimental nonsense."

"Harry needs you. He'll need someone like you when I'm gone."

"Evidently, I have become delirious."

"I'm quite in earnest," Dumbledore said, lightly dabbing Snape's neck with the wet cloth.

The younger man grimaced. "I am not at all in the mood... to discuss Potter's brat..."

"Of course. Forgive me, Severus. I didn't mean to agitate you."

Snape frowned at Dumbledore but remained silent.

"Two more weeks should do it. It is no longer necessary for you to brew any additional potion," Dumbledore said. "Gather your strength. Rest."

"You speak of your death as though it... shouldn't affect me," Snape said, his eyes hardening and watering at the same time.

Dumbledore sighed. "I know. But that's how it is, Severus. You know better than anyone what we're up against. Losses are sometimes inevitable."

Snape closed his eyes and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"I'm sorry that you've lost so much," Dumbledore said. "Just remember what I said, about Harry. Learn to see what you have. It's too late for me. I put on that ring despite all that I already knew. I believe you're wiser than I am."

Snape didn't reply. Dumbledore continued to stroke the young man's feverish brow.

"Albus... I'm tired."

Dumbledore's hand stilled. He watched as tears slid from beneath Snape's eyelids and mingled with water and perspiration.

"I'm so sorry," Dumbledore said.

McGonagall entered the room with Pomfrey, who hurried to Snape's side and drew her wand.

"You should have sent for me sooner," she told Dumbledore, a stern frown creasing the flesh above the bridge of her nose. She ran her wand along the length of Snape's body.

"He's very weak. He needs to eat something, and plenty of liquids." The tone of her voice made it clear she would brook no argument, but Snape didn't protest. "Let me bring his fever down..." She muttered a spell.

"Dobby," Dumbledore said.

The House Elf appeared an instant later and bowed repeatedly before the elderly wizard. "Dobby is here, Master Dumbledore. What is Professor Dumbledore wanting? Dobby will get it right away."

"Would you bring a bowl of chicken broth and a large pitcher of water for Headmaster Snape?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

The small creature vanished.

"Let's get him seated," Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey arranged a number of pillows so that Snape's upper half was raised from the bed. He did not utter a word; he let himself be maneuvered into position without resistance.

"How long has he been like this?" the mediwitch asked.

"I fear that we'll have to get used to his uncharacteristic cooperation," Dumbledore said.

"I'm still here, damn it," Snape said, a hint of a sneer curving his lips. "I just can't be bothered... I'm... ignoring you. Do what you will..." He blew out his breath and then coughed faintly.

The elderly wizard and the two witches couldn't hide their relief at his familiar display of impatience, although their sadness was also evident.

"We're concerned, dear lad. But we'll try not to be too annoying," Dumbledore said.

Snape raised one eyebrow ever so slightly.

It was then that Dobby reappeared inside the room, holding a large tray. "Dobby is bringing food for Headmaster Snape, like Professor Dumbledore wanted."

"Thank you kindly, Dobby," Dumbledore said. He took the tray from the creature's hands and smiled. "If I require anything else, I'll call you again."

"Yes sir, Professor Dumbledore sir," the House Elf said. "Dobby will be waiting near, not far, if Professor Dumbledore is needing him."

With a soft "pop" and a flash of light, he disappeared.

"Here we are, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Broth, with some bread. Then potions, and we'll leave you be-"

"No. I can't have..." Snape trailed off, and his mouth snapped shut.

"What were you going to say?" Pomfrey said.

"It's none of your business."

"We'll see about that!" Pomfrey ran her wand over him again. "What precisely is it that you've done to yourself this time?"

Dumbledore set the tray upon the nightstand and approached Snape. "Severus..."

"I couldn't have done it... without help," Snape said with a harsh sigh. "As accomplished an Occlumens... as I am..."

"You took a potion last night," Dumbledore said.

"I had to. Only it was... extremely powerful, and... Damnation. I owe you no explanation." Snape was growing paler.

"Perhaps it would be best for him to have his broth and sleep quietly for a while," Dumbledore told the mediwitch.

Pomfrey bristled, but McGonagall sat next to the bed and picked up the bowl of broth. She stirred it with a spoon, which she brought to Snape's lips. When Pomfrey saw Snape willingly swallow the hot liquid that was proffered, she relented.

"Once his system has absorbed the potion he took, I'll reassess him," Pomfrey said, glaring at Dumbledore.

"Of course, Poppy," Dumbledore said.

"Forty-eight hours..." Snape said. He had had a third of the broth that McGonagall was feeding him and was starting to fall asleep.

Pomfrey's gaze softened. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape had drifted off to slumber.

"He'll have to be carefully monitored from now on," Pomfrey said.

"Do whatever is necessary," Dumbledore said. "I must tell you that... I am almost entirely convinced he'll make it through this illness."

McGonagall's head snapped up. "He won't die?"

"It'll be very hard for a while, but I do believe he will survive. Call it a guess."

"Albus... Are you sure?" McGonagall said.

"I count on you both to care for him when I am no longer here," Dumbledore said, and left the room.

[_]

_Horcruxes_.

The word reverberated inside Harry's head and filled him with dread. Six of them, according to Dumbledore. Pieces of Voldemort's soul, which he had to find, otherwise... Four remained. Two had already been destroyed; Gaunt's ring, Riddle's diary...

Harry shuddered at the thought that he had touched that thing. Trusted it, like it had been a friend.

He and Dumbledore would soon be setting out in search of another horcrux: Salazar's locket.

Harry sank upon his bed and held his head between his hands. While all of this was occurring, Hogwarts was being led by Snape. _Snape_. An ex-Death Eater, or so Dumbledore claimed.

What would happen if Dumbledore died?

_We'll finally see Snape's true colors._

Harry did not doubt this for a second. Snape had always had so much to hide. What else could he be hiding?

Did he know anything about the horcruxes?


	6. Downturn

Author's note: God bless you for your kindness. Man alive -has it been over a year since I last updated this story? Where does the time go? I was rather busy working on my latest collection of mystical Snape essays, and the book, _The flawed master: lessons Professor Snape taught me_, is now finished (see my website for information, or visit amazon).

I have been a little tired, but now I shall try to update more often... I am a bit nervous because Infinitus will be here soon, and I shall be lecturing again (arg!), so a little Snape hurt/comfort would certainly not, um, hurt ;-) Please forgive the interminable delay!

I am glad that you are enjoying the story, silly as it is. I have made a few very minor modifications to the last chapter; often, I am not particularly rested when I write my nonsense! And here is more of it. I must warn you that this tale is doomed to become quite fluffy.

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

[_]

Did he know anything about the horcruxes?

He was supposed to be ill; that's what Dumbledore had told everyone before dinner earlier in the evening. Hermione had been right, but she hadn't imagined it was already so serious. Although Snape remained Headmaster, McGonagall would be taking over his duties until he got better.

Instead of greeting the news with semi-discreet elation, the students seated in the Great Hall had reacted in a rather subdued manner. So much gloom lingered over Hogwarts of late that even Snape's misfortune was deemed worthy of sympathy.

But Harry could not bring himself to trust the man, no matter what Dumbledore, Hermione, Hagrid or anyone said.

It was getting close to eleven. Harry glanced at the trunk that contained his Invisibility Cloak. A stupid idea (he could almost hear Hermione add, _"as usual"_). He didn't know what the password to the Headmaster's office was. How would he be able to get past the gargoyle? If Snape was sick, Dumbledore might be with him now. Surely he wouldn't stay there much longer. When Dumbledore left, Harry might have a chance to sneak inside...

_Or I might be sitting outside the stone wall all night._

He dismissed the notion, though he wasn't sure what he would do should his plan succeed. At the very least, he would discover whether the news about Snape's illness was true or not. That would be a start.

Harry retrieved the cloak from its hiding place, draped the shimmering fabric over himself, and made his way to the Headmaster's office.

He was somewhat out of breath by the time he reached the as yet inaccessible room. He was trying to figure out what to do next when the gargoyle inexplicably moved aside. He hadn't made a sound, save for a few panting noises, let alone uttered a single word.

He stared at the rotating staircase. It might be a trap. Where Snape was concerned, anything was possible, especially treachery. Harry hoped that his Invisibility Cloak would give him an advantage and, after another moment of hesitation, he tightened his grip upon his wand and stepped upon the staircase.

He soon found himself before the large wooden door leading into the familiar office. It opened with a creak, and then Dumbledore's voice softly called out, "Come in, Harry."

The Gryffindor hesitated again and finally entered.

The room was dark except for a flickering light that spilled from a partly opened door near the window. Still concealed beneath his cloak, Harry cautiously approached the second entrance. The moment he saw the scene that greeted his eyes, he stood silently, rooted to the spot.

Dumbledore was seated next to the bed, where Snape lay. The new Headmaster's face was almost as pale as the pillows upon which his head was resting. His breath was shallow and raspy; there were dark circles around his his eyes, the skin looking almost like it was bruised.

"Come, Harry. It's all right. You won't wake him," Dumbledore said.

Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak, the gesture further disheveling his already tousled hair, and came closer to the bed.

"Sleepless night, lad?" Dumbledore said.

"Uh... Yes, sir." Harry couldn't stop staring at Snape. "Sir... Is he going to get better?"

"I don't know, Harry, but I hope so. He's very sick right now."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?"

Dumbledore studied Harry for a few moments, as though considering whether or not to impart words the Boy Who Lived was becoming convinced were of the most vital importance.

"A potion has made him unwell," Dumbledore finally answered. "A potion that has been keeping me alive."

Harry gaped at Dumbledore, speechless. When at last he recovered the ability to speak, he said, "You're sick too, sir?"

"Alas, I fear it is worse than that, Harry. I have been cursed, and nothing can be done to save me. Professor Snape has merely been delaying the inevitable."

"Sir... You're not... Professor..." Harry shook his head, trying to process the revelations Dumbledore was now sharing with him.

"There is not much time left for me to help you face Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "This is why I need you to trust me, and most importantly, to trust Professor Snape. When the time comes, he will tell you things that will seem very difficult, but we cannot hope to defeat Voldemort unless you listen to Severus."

Dumbledore's shoulders suddenly sagged, as if burdened by an immense, unseen weight. He took a clean linen cloth and gently patted Snape's forehead with it, removing the beads of sweat that were starting to run down the Headmaster's strained features. "If it makes you feel better, Harry, even Professor Snape does not yet know some of the instructions he'll be giving you... I am trying to protect you both, and the whole-" He stopped speaking and closed his eyes. After a moment, his tired blue eyes briefly met Harry's, and his lips curved in a weak smile.

"Professor, are you okay?"

"I'm a dotty old man, eh, lad? Of course, you've known this all along."

Harry was more bewildered than he'd ever been. Finally he said, "I just need to know, sir... _Why_ do you trust Professor Snape?" There was a mixture of pain and genuine curiosity in his voice.

Dumbledore's smile softened. "I have great hope that he'll tell you himself. I suspect you know that Professor Snape has many secrets. Let me just say this... You think you know him, but he'll surprise you in ways you cannot possibly fathom."

The man in question groaned and stirred in his sleep, which was evidently troubled.

"Severus? I'm here," Dumbledore said, patting Snape's forehead again.

"Harry, would you hand me one of the vials on the nightstand over there?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. For the first time, he noticed the row of vials on the small table next to the bed, all of which contained a thick red liquid.

He watched as Dumbledore conjured more pillows, and repositioned the semi-inert man so that his head and shoulders were somewhat raised from the bed, supported by a soft, feathery mass.

"Can you hear me, Severus? I have a potion for you," Dumbledore said. "Severus, open your eyes..."

Snape eyelids parted, if only a fraction, but enough for Harry to see how dazed his former Potions Master was.

"Can you drink this?" Dumbledore said.

At the sound of the elderly wizard's voice, Snape's eyes widened for an instant. "Please... don't leave me..." he whispered.

"I'm here," Dumbledore said. Harry had often heard Dumbledore speak gently, but his tone had surely never been gentler than it was now. "Drink... It'll help you feel better."

Dumbledore assisted Snape, who managed to swallow most of the potion, but a little seeped from the corners of his mouth, as though even such a small effort was too much for him.

"Rest," Dumbledore said, wiping Snape's chin. He then adjusted the younger man so that he was as comfortable as possible, and smoothed the blankets over him.

Snape didn't respond; he had settled into sleep once more, and appeared calmer.

Dumbledore released a deep sigh. "Harry, perhaps we should imitate Professor Snape and get some rest. You and I can chat tomorrow."

At first it seemed like Harry had not heard Dumbledore at all. He was staring at Snape. _Don't leave me_. The Headmaster's weak plea had rattled Harry to his very core. He too could remember many occasions when he had inwardly begged Dumbledore not to go wherever it was that he was going...

Finally Harry said, "Yes, sir."

[_]

McGonagall observed the tall, blond man standing in front of her desk, distaste crinkling her mouth.

"I'm not sure Severus is conscious," she informed him briskly.

"I see," Lucius Malfoy replied. "Nevertheless, I would like to see him. Surely he apprised you of my coming? He is quite aware that I would visit him, whether or not his condition improved. So, if you would be obliging enough to respect his wishes, and dispense with this, shall we say, _pointless_ discussion..." He quirked one of his pale eyebrows at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him in return, and rose from her seat. "This way, Mister Malfoy."

He followed her into the Headmaster's private chambers, and although he noted that she remained next to the door, watching his every move as he stepped closer to the bed where Snape lay, he made no comment; she might well have been a servant.

Malfoy looked at Snape and cleared his throat. "I'm... sorry to see you so unwell, Severus."

"Are you now, Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall said.

He shot her a disdainful glance.

Before either of them exchanged another word, however, Snape's faint voice reached their ears, surprising them both.

"Minerva... I'd like... a private talk with Lucius."

She considered his request, placing a hesitant hand upon the door handle. "I shall be in the study, should you have need of me."

Snape nodded once, his eyes still closed.

After a long moment of silence, Malfoy sat in the chair next to the bed. "What I've been told is true, then."

"No doubt... it was Draco who... let you know," Snape said.

"Naturally," Malfoy said. He cleared his throat again. Snape's deathly pallor was less unnerving than the absence of his piercing gaze. It was amazing, Lucius thought, how much could be conveyed by those dark eyes, eyes that were at the same time so remote -eyes in which Snape's strength resided.

Snape turned his head toward Malfoy, though he could not do more. "He can't do it... You know that. Is this why... you are really here?"


	7. Entreaties

Author's note: Your eyes are not deceiving you... Another update already! I am very much in the mood to fic. I have been working so hard on my books and all that, I daresay I had almost forgotten how to have a pleasant time. I used to write fan fiction much more, and I shall try to do so on a regular basis again.

It will help me to deal with my slowly building Infinitus jitters :-)

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness. I am happy to know that my scribblings give you joy, and so I scribble.

Things are quickly coming to a head in this tale, and in the next bit, a lot will happen, including Dumbledore's death. The Room of Requirement (and [insert character name here]) will soon be playing a prominent role. As usual, I am making the story up as I go along and not worrying too much :-)

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

[_]

Snape turned his head toward Malfoy, though he could not do more. "He can't do it... You know that. Is this why... you are really here?"

Even with his eyes shut, Snape perceived that his question had caused Malfoy to grow tense.

At last Malfoy replied, "There is more... pressure on us now that you are out of the picture, Severus. The Dark Lord somehow seems to feel that your illness is another one of our failures."

Snape forced his eyes open, astounded as he was by Malfoy's assertion. "What?"

"You heard me correctly," Malfoy said with a cynical smile. "He believes that Draco -and Narcissa and I, since we have been endeavoring to help our son obey the Dark Lord's command- haven't been acting with 'due diligence,' and thus prolonged your exposure to the potion that has incapacitated you."

"I see," Snape said, the words like a breath.

Malfoy's smile faded, and a hint of fear emerged from behind his usually cool facade. "Narcissa's concern is proving to be warranted," he said, his voice low. "The Dark Lord is using my son to... punish us for..." He paused, shrugging. "You know," he continued, a bitter sort of amusement making his lips twitch, "I'm not sure anymore precisely how one goes about pleasing our Master."

"He doesn't care about... any of us," Snape said. "He never has."

"I think he might have cared about you, Severus, at least for a while," Malfoy said, studying Snape. "But you're a broken toy now, aren't you? Not very interesting."

"The Dark Lord... is easily bored..."

A harsh laugh escaped Malfoy.

"My family is useless to him, apart from our luxurious mansion of course. I think he's planning on moving in permanently soon."

He abruptly rose from his chair. Bending down, he came closer to Snape, who coughed a few times into his pillow, spattering it with blood. To Snape's shock, Malfoy retrieved a fancy linen handkerchief from his robes and wiped the sick man's mouth.

"Severus," Malfoy murmured, "he's going to kill us. Me, Narcissa... Draco." He choked on the last name. Then, his forehead slightly moist with sweat, he leaned closer still. "Whose side are you on?"

The Headmaster was too weak to pry the truth from Malfoy's mind, but it didn't matter: the truth was plainly visible upon his face, which betrayed a mixture of anger, confusion and anguish.

"Bellatrix is right about you, isn't she?"

The Headmaster's strength was ebbing away. "What difference... would it make?"

"You can help us," Malfoy persisted. "Convince Dumbledore to hide us."

Snape's fever-glazed eyes bore into Malfoy's. "Will... Draco be... willing?"

Malfoy blinked. "How..." Recovering himself, he wiped more blood from Snape's lips. "You've always been remarkably clever, Severus... I fear that my son is determined to restore our family's honor. He doesn't realize honor is meaningless to the Dark Lord."

"And you've... realized this..."

"I know, what a splendid turnabout it is, hm? Rather convenient, and all that. I don't blame you for not trusting me. I _am_ looking out for my own interests! But then, perhaps it's always been the best I could give you... Old friend."

"Draco... may not... listen... to me..."

There was a knock at the door, and Malfoy began to whisper with increasing urgency.

"He's learning Dark Magic, to get Bellatrix and the werewolf, and the Carrows, into Hogwarts. That's when the killing of Dumbledore is to take place-"

"Severus, Poppy advises me that your meeting with Mister Malfoy should be reaching its conclusion," came McGonagall's voice from the other side of the door.

Snape's eyes closed. He was teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"Severus, will you help?" Malfoy said, repeating his entreaty.

"...I will."

[_]

Dumbledore had been absent from Hogwarts for three days, having taken Harry Potter with him, when Draco entered Snape's private chambers.

"Headmaster, you wished to see me," the pallid young man said, standing a good distance from Snape's sickbed.

The only answer he received was the sound of Snape's labored breathing. Draco frowned, uncertain, and drew nearer to the bed, which was partly concealed by darkness.

"Professor?"

"Your father... will be killed... whether or... not..."

For a moment, Draco could not believe the feeble rasp had come from Professor Snape, his commanding former Head of House.

"You... cannot kill..."

Draco's chest tightened and he couldn't prevent tears from blurring his vision; regardless, his face became a hard mask.

"You're the one who can't do anything," Draco said. "The Dark Lord never even mentions your name anymore. I'll be the one he favors once..." He swallowed. "I'll be the one who kills Dumbledore."

"No... You won't... Moaning Myrtle told me..."

Draco stormed over to Snape's bed, teeth bared and eyes blazing, his wand pointed at the Headmaster.

"Shut up! Shut up! What the bloody hell do you know, you pathetic, slimy bastard! You're too late, anyway! I've done it, I've found a way... Hogwarts is almost ours!"

In the office next to Snape's rooms, there was a loud scrapping noise as McGonagall rose from her desk; however, her scurrying steps were cut short when the door slammed with a great rattling thud, barring her from entry.

"Severus!" she cried, her litany of spells having no effect. "Draco Malfoy, open the door this instant!"

Inside the room, Draco was frozen into place. He was staring, wide-eyed, at the Headmaster, who despite his illness had somehow succeeded in performing wandless magic. The dark haired man was leaning upon his elbow, panting, and sweat poured from his skin. His eyes were even wider than Draco's.

"Professor Snape," Draco said, trembling, all his anger having evaporated, replaced by fright.

Energy crackled around Snape; a few of the vials on the nightstand shattered. Draco fell to his knees and shielded himself with his arms, dropping his wand in the process.

"Your family will die... and you will die... unless you leave Voldemort's service," Snape said.

Then his burst of power fizzled out. His head swayed a couple of times, and he slumped back upon the mattress, face down.

Immediately, the door yielded to McGonagall's desperate efforts. She stumbled into the room, wand at the ready.

Draco was still kneeling, his arms wrapped around his head, and he was crying.

McGonagall raced to the bed. "Severus! Severus!" She turned him over, and for a terrible moment thought he might be dead. "Severus," she said, feeling the side of his throat for a pulse.

Tears spilled from her eyes, but then she saw his lips move and her heart leapt at the sight.

"Don't try to speak. I'll get Poppy."

Rounding upon Draco's cowering form, she said, "I've no idea what you did, Mister Malfoy, but rest assured-"

"I, I didn't do anything!" Draco looked up at her and shook his head over and over. "I swear I didn't do anything, he just... He's the one who shut the door, without a wand!"

McGonagall frowned. It was then that she noticed potion dripping slowly from the edge of the nightstand, and the broken glass littering the floor. She turned her attention back to Snape, whose complexion was ashen.

"I shall expect you to explain yourself later," McGonagall told Draco. "Go to your Common Room and stay there until I fetch you, is that clear?"

He sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve, nodded, and stowed his wand inside his school robes again.

"Wait..."

Snape's whisper startled both McGonagall and Draco.

She rushed to the Headmaster. "Please, keep still," she said, brushing a few damp strands of hair from his eyes which, to her astonishment, fluttered open.

He fought to speak, but it was beyond his capability.

"Severus-"

Snape's head tilted almost imperceptibly, and she saw that his dark eyes were searching for Draco.

"He's right here, Severus," McGonagall said. "But whatever you need to tell him can wait, let me get Poppy..."

Agitation filled Snape's eyes, and his struggle to make his wishes known became so intense that his nose began to bleed.

"Severus, I beg you to calm down! I'm getting Poppy now, Mister Malfoy, come here!" McGonagall said, gesturing at the Slytherin. "Watch over him!"

She ran into the Headmaster's office.

Draco stared down at the Headmaster, who met his eyes for a brief instant.

_What have you done..._

The young man gasped at the sensation of Snape's presence, however frail, inside his mind. And the images that had tormented him for months were propelled to the forefront: the Vanishing Cabinet and its counterpart at Borgin & Burkes.

As quickly as it had manifested itself, Snape's presence withdrew, or rather, Draco felt it fade away...

He shook his head to clear it and said, "Professor, can you hear me?"


	8. Sanctuary

Author's note: Kind readers, thank you as always for your patience! Infinitus is almost here, but I wished to update this story one more time before the convention...

Thank you so much for your kindness and for continuing to indulge my silliness.

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

[_]

He shook his head to clear it and said, "Professor, can you hear me?"

Snape released a pained, staggering breath, but he didn't otherwise respond.

"Sir, I... I'm sorry..." More tears leaked from Draco's eyes. At a loss as what to do, he rearranged the pillows upon which Snape had been lying, then carefully grabbed him underneath the arms and hauled him up so that the Headmaster was reclining at a slight angle.

Snape was like a rag doll; Draco could hardly bear to see him so debilitated. It didn't seem such a thing could be possible, but it was, and the young man felt sick with dread.

It wasn't just that his former Head of House was the only one who stood between him and his parents, and Voldemort. Draco reached out to Snape, his hand faltering. At last it came to rest upon the man's thin shoulder.

"Sir... I'm tired of all this. I wish it would just end."

McGonagall reentered the room, accompanied by Pomfrey, who hastened to Snape's side. Draco took a step back, and the witch started to wave her wand over Snape's body.

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Please go to your Common Room. I've no doubt Professor Dumbledore will wish to speak with you when he has returned to Hogwarts."

Draco looked at Snape and said, "Is there... anything I can do? To help?"

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy... We shall be taking care of the Headmaster. Don't worry," McGonagall said. "The best way to help is to tell Professor Dumbledore all that you know."

"Yes, professor," he said, and exited Snape's chambers.

Madam Pomfrey, for her part, was casting one spell after the other. "He needs rest, and rest, and more rest!" she said, brandishing her wand over Snape's chest with swift, darting motions. "The man's at his limit, he couldn't even raise his own head from the bed if the fate of the world depended on it, so we'd best get on and let him recover!" She exhaled roughly and added, lowering her wand, "He can't take any more. It's hard enough for him simply to breathe at this point."

McGonagall sighed and said, "Would it be preferable to move him to the Hospital Wing?"

"No... No, he'll be better off here," Pomfrey said.

"I believe that I have a better idea."

Both witches started at the sound of Dumbledore's voice.

The elderly wizard was gripping the doorframe, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days; like he shouldn't be able to stand. Still, although his features were greyish and his blue eyes had lost their spark, he summoned yet more strength from his almost completely depleted reserves, and straightened his shoulders a bit.

"Albus!" McGonagall said. "How long have-"

"There is no time to waste," Dumbledore replied. "I encountered Draco Malfoy on my way here, and if the information he... shared with me is correct... The school will be under attack within hours."

The two women gasped.

"Are you sure?" Pomfrey asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Help me, I must speak with Severus..."

McGonagall and Pomfrey hastened to Dumbledore, who held onto them for support.

"He's unconscious," Pomfrey told Dumbledore as they neared the bed, "and he's too weak to be disturbed, let alone wakened! You yourself need to be-"

"I don't matter, and I won't wake him," Dumbledore said. With McGonagall's assistance, he sat in the chair next to the bed, and took a few deep breaths.

"Albus... Is there anything you wish me to do?" McGonagall said, her eyes watering slightly.

"Find Harry and Neville," Dumbledore said. "Bring them here. Hurry. Instruct them... that they are to take Severus to the Room of Requirement."

McGonagall nodded and swiftly exited the room.

Dumbledore took another deep breath, and finally he stretched his arm and placed his hand upon Snape's forehead.

After a few minutes, Snape moaned.

"I know, I know," Dumbledore whispered. "Forgive me. There is no other way to destroy him... Alas."

A feeble, pained sound emerged from Snape's throat.

"For everyone's sake, be strong, my Severus... You won't be alone. If you want... You'll never be alone."

"Nnn..."

Dumbledore's hand slipped from Snape's pale forehead, and the elderly wizard slumped forward on the bed, his head dropping on the mattress next to Snape's chest, his hand lying limp upon the younger man's shoulder.

"Albus!" Pompfrey cried, rushing to his side. "Albus!" She swept her wand over his prostrate form, casting one spell after the other, then let her arm fall. "No..."

She took a few steps back and stumbled upon a chair.

Moments later, McGonagall returned to the Headmaster's chambers with Harry and Neville in tow.

"Albus, I..." McGonagall's words ebbed away as she saw Dumbledore's immobile body, and Pomfrey with her face concealed in her hands.

"Poppy, what has happened?" McGonagall said. "He isn't..."

"I couldn't save him," the mediwitch said without raising her head.

A small sob escaped McGonagall; Harry and Neville stared, wide-eyed, at the desolate scene before them.

"Professor," Harry said, unable to tear his eyes away from Dumbledore. His legs were trembling.

Behind him, Neville swallowed and, reaching out to his fellow Gryffindor, squeezed his arm.

At last, McGonagall said, "Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom, Professor Dumbledore requested that you both bring Headmaster Snape to the Room of Requirement. It seems that... that an attack upon Hogwarts is imminent... Heaven help us all. Madame Pomfrey and I shall look after..." Her voice broke, but she continued, steadfast, "We will attend to Professor Dumbledore."

Pomfrey roused herself, transfigured a book into a stretcher, then carefully levitated Snape upon it. His hoarse respiration filled all present with an unnameable fear. It was as though they were aware that the ailing, defenseless ex-Potions Master, a man once so powerful and despised, had suddenly become the last tenuous barrier between the relative peace that that they had known up to now, and the unknown horrors that loomed ahead.

He had been transformed into a symbol of everything they would be fighting for: freedom, truth... Love. He was embodying Hogwarts itself, embattled and precious.

"We'll take care of the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall," Harry said. "Don't worry." He took over the stretcher, pointing his wand at it, and motioned to Neville. "Come on, let's go."

No sooner had the two young men walked past the gargoyle leading to the Headmaster's quarters, both of them guarding the floating stretcher on either side, that a large stone door materialized ahead of them, down the semi-lit hallway.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, the Room of Requirement knew they were in dire need of shelter and had been waiting for them.

"There is it," he told Neville.

The other Gryffindor nodded, and they approached the door as fast as they could, whilst making certain that Snape was not jostled.

The door silently opened as they drew near, and shut behind them the moment they had crossed its threshold.

The large room was softly illumined by torches on the walls and mostly empty, save for a large bed near a row of windows. The bed curtains that surrounded it were drawn aside, revealing green and silver pillows, sheets and blankets. There was a small table near the bed; upon it were a few vials filled with liquid, as well as a large bowl and a pitcher of water.

"Let's get him in bed," Harry said.

Neville moved the covers aside, allowing Harry to levitate Snape from the stretcher to the mattress. The motionless Headmaster was dressed in a long grey nightgown, and Neville's gaze darted from him to Harry. Finally, after some hesitation, Neville pulled the blankets on Snape, covering him up to his shoulders, and stared at him for a while.

"What... What do we do now?" he said.

Two things then happened simultaneously, causing Neville and Harry to jump: Snape's eyes opened, and a tall, dark cabinet materialized in the room, shimmering into view like a mirage.

Although he knew the room was a safe haven, Harry kept his wand trained upon the cabinet, and he looked at Snape, whose eyes were fixed on him.

"Sir?" Harry said.

Snape mouthed the word, "_Legilimens_."

Harry blinked in surprise, but the Headmaster didn't enter his mind. He couldn't, Harry realized; it was evident the man could barely prevent his eyes from drifting shut.

Snape was telling him to perform the spell. Shock made Harry's stomach twist inside his abdomen.

Harry pointed his wand at Snape, inhaled, and cried, "_Legilimens_!"

Immediately, he saw what the Headmaster had perceived in Draco Malfoy's mind: the Vanishing Cabinet, a dead bird, the sight of Bellatrix cackling with glee... Then he heard Snape murmur inside his mind, _Destroy it_...

Harry was about to withdraw when another voice was heard, combined with Snape's gasp.

It was Dumbledore.

_When Voldemort starts to protect Nagini, Severus, tell Harry what must be done_...

Then Harry felt himself being thrust out of Snape's mind by Dumbledore's lingering power. Snape lost consciousness, and Harry fell upon his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath.

Neville raced to him. "Harry! Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, getting back on his feet. "I have to destroy that cabinet... Shield the Headmaster."

Neville stood next to the bed, wand at the ready, and Harry went to the cabinet. He held his wand aloft, and with a brisk, abrupt motion yelled, "_Expelliarmus_!"

The cabinet was propelled against the stone wall and smashed into a hundred pieces.

"Whoa," Neville said.

"I've got to go talk with Ron and Hermione," Harry said. He turned to Neville. "Dumbledore gave me a mission, and... I'll be back, I don't know when. Just... Watch over him, over Headmaster Snape. He'll tell me what I have to do once I've... I've done most of what Dumbledore wanted."

"Be careful, Harry," Neville said. "I'll make sure the uh, the Headmaster is all right." He shrugged, a crooked smile on his lips. "I hope he won't mind."


	9. Intercession

Author's notes: Kind readers, here is another overdue update... Thank you so much for your kindness and patience. Between conventions, writing books of essays about Professor Snape, and every day matters, I am sometimes stretched a bit thin. My next convention will be Ascendio in 2012... More Hogsmeade adventures, lecturing, signing books and all that, egad. In the meantime, it will probably be a good idea to relax by writing some fanfic now and then, eh?

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

[_]

"Be careful, Harry," Neville said. "I'll make sure the uh, the Headmaster is all right." He shrugged, a crooked smile on his lips. "I hope he won't mind."

A small laugh burst from Harry. "Who ever would've thought that..." He ran his hand through his messy hair. "Things sure have gotten kind of crazy, haven't they?"

"Yeah," Neville replied. "You'll be careful out there, eh?"

"I'll do my best, I promise. Take care of him. I'll return as soon as I can."

[_]

The dark haired man could hardly open his eyes, but after watching over him for a few weeks, Neville was familiar with his every movement and knew he was awake.

It was actually amazing that Snape was still alive. Though his black robes had made him more physically imposing, even in those days it was obvious that he had been rather slender. Due to his illness, he was now almost emaciated.

"Headmaster?"

Neville couldn't help himself, couldn't help trying to solicit a verbal response from Snape, regardless of the fact that he had not spoken a word since he had first been brought to the Room of Requirement.

Snape merely looked at Neville, his hooded eyes somewhat unfocused.

Hogwarts was not attacked once Harry left with Ron and Hermione, but something just as terrible did: a hostile takeover, with the Carrows and Umbridge in charge of the school. The Room of Requirement became a refuge to all the bold students who were attempting to defy the new conditions, and preparing for a war that was inevitable and imminent.

Snape's bed was surrounded by curtains, shielding him from the other occupants of the room. Behind the curtains, there was always only silence punctuated by the Headmaster's rasping breath.

"Sir, it might be a good idea if you ate something now," Neville said.

Snape's gaze seemed to sharpen, and to Neville's surprise, his lips moved.

"Sir?" Neville leaned in closer; it was Snape's turn to betray surprise. His eyes widened ever so slightly and he whispered, "Bleeding..."

Neville's alarm was instantaneous. Although no blood was leaking from the corner of Snape's mouth, the younger man quickly began examining the Headmaster, but stopped when the latter gave a tiny shake of the head.

"You," Snape said.

"Oh, right," Neville said as realization hit him. He had endured so much abuse from the Carrows that the result of their interrogations sometimes slipped his mind. "I'm sorry I misunderstood you, sir."

_I should have cleaned up before I came to see him_.

The Carrows had just expressed their displeasure at his lack of respect by casting a few well-chosen spells; his left cheek was bruised, his lip split, and his forehead cut just above his right eyebrow.

"I haven't been cooperating with the Carrows as much as they'd like," Neville said. "It's nothing... I forgot about it."

Snape stared at Neville almost like he'd never seen him before. Then his eyes closed, and a tear crossed his temple and mingled with his hair.

"Really, it's nothing, sir," Neville said. "Don't worry. We're holding our own against them."

Snape shook his head. If it were possible, he seemed like he'd aged in a moment.

"I think you should try to eat," Neville said. "You've only had strengthening potions for a while... If you got better, we'd sure have an advantage over the Carrows and the Death Eaters."

Neville thought Snape shook his head again, but it was difficult to tell.

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't believe it, sir..."

Snape opened his eyes, an agonized expression lining his illness ravaged features. His breath escaped his chest in shallow puffs, and he suddenly paled even more.

Neville felt his gut twist. "Sir, please, you can't give up." He swallowed, raised his head and murmured, "He needs help, and I..."

Before he could utter another word, there was a blinding flash of light, so bright that Neville couldn't see where it had even come from; an instant later, a number of students shoved the curtains aside and tumbled behind Neville.

"What the bloody hell was that?" said George Weasley.

"I don't know," Neville said, blinking away the white spots that were still blurring his vision. "But the Headmaster is-"

"Look!" Seamus Finnigan said. His finger was pointing at a crystal flask that had materialized on the nightstand next to Snape's bed.

The flask was filled with a shimmering silver liquid. The substance glowed as though it were bottled light.

"What _is_ that stuff?" George's brother Fred said.

It was then that a goblet appeared in front of it.

Neville hurried towards the nightstand and poured the liquid into the goblet. "I think... I think it's for him."

All heads turned towards Snape, who was lying on the bed with the stillness of death.

"Shite," Fred said.

"Get over here and help me give it to him," Neville said.

Fred hastened to Snape's side and raised his head and shoulders from the pillows piled underneath him.

"Come on, sir, just have a sip of this..." Neville said. He brought the goblet to Snape's lips and tipped it a little, allowing a small portion of the radiant liquid to enter Snape's mouth. Most of it flowed on either side of his mouth, and for a second Neville feared that the Headmaster would start choking, but to his astonishment, he saw the silvery liquid being absorbed by Snape's skin.

"Blimey!" Fred said.

Snape finally did cough, his throat working as he swallowed the liquid that had made it inside his mouth, and his eyes opened halfway.

"Sir, try to drink this," Neville said, hope filling his heart. He slowly tipped the goblet again, and the Headmaster swallowed, one sip at a time, until nothing remained.

Fred then gently lowered him back upon the pillows. "Uh, there you go, sir. You should, uh, you know, rest."

Snape looked up at the tall redheaded youth, something like a frown indenting the flesh between his dark eyebrows, and he took a deep breath.

For the first time in months, the painful rattle that had afflicted his lungs was gone. Snape's intake of breath turned into a startled gasp, then a groan.

"Headmaster Snape!" Neville said.

Snape's next breath was followed by another soft groan.

"Fetch me a strengthening potion and a calming draught," Neville told Fred, who immediately went to the cabinet where they had been keeping Snape's potions.

"Sir, can you speak?" Neville asked Snape. "Can you tell me what's hurting you?"

"Tired... Sore..." Snape murmured at last.

Fred handed two vials to Neville, and raised the Headmaster from his pillows once more.

"Take these, sir," Neville said. "They're your own potions."

Snape swallowed the contents of both vials, then told Neville, "Thank you."

A small smile graced the young man's lips.

"You're welcome, sir."

Fred removed his arm from beneath Snape's shoulders, careful not to jostle him, and settled him upon the pillows.

"Mister Longbottom, what was... the other one... The first potion."

Neville glanced at the empty flask, and rearranged Snape's blankets. "It looks like the Room of Requirement knew what you needed. That's the only explanation I can think of... I'd say Hogwarts came to your rescue, sir."

Snape took in his surroundings, his weary eyes meeting each student's, and sighed.

"After you've slept a bit, I'll have an elf bring you some food," Neville said. "Is that all right with you?"

Snape nodded.

"Do you need anything else, sir? I'll be nearby while you rest."

Snape didn't reply, and Neville thought he had fallen asleep, but then the Headmaster said, "Neville..."

"Sir?"

"Have your wounds... looked after."

"Yes, Headmaster."

[_]

Warmth.

Snape felt like he was floating between two layers of awareness, warmth washing over him and encasing his body like a magical spell.

He didn't want to move, yet his limbs were moving, it seemed.

Or at least, they were being moved.

Yes, that was it. Interesting.

More warmth, down his leg, and covering his foot. Gentle warmth.

It was an odd situation, but Snape didn't have the energy to analyze it.

He might have mumbled something; he wasn't sure. He felt disconnected from his body, as though pleasant sensations had become so foreign to him that they couldn't possibly have anything to do with what he was currently feeling. But still, he knew they did.

For some reason, his hair felt damp.

He exhaled and slowly opened his eyes.

Neville Longbottom was bent down over him at the other end of the bed. In one of his hands, he was holding Snape's foot, and in the other was a wet cloth. He was lowering Snape's leg when he noticed that the Headmaster was awake.

"Oh! I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize that you'd, uh..."

The young man blushed, and Snape raised an eyebrow in that familiar way of his. He saw that a bath towel had been placed across his midsection, and that Neville was clearly finished bathing him.

_Thank heaven for small mercies_.

"I hope it's all right if I've been caring for you like this, sir," Neville said.

"Did you... draw the shortest straw, Mister Longbottom?"

Neville stared at him with his jaw hanging slightly open.


End file.
